


For Every Atom

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hipster!Chesters, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean plans for Sam the perfect day, because Sam is the most precious thing to him.  AU, just two boys who are completely in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Every Atom

**Author's Note:**

> Because my Tumblr dash has been nothing but Hipster!Chesters for the past week and I wanted to contribute. I also finally managed to write a story without explicit sexual content (loud gasp) because I felt like it would have spoiled the mood overall of the work. Not to fear though, there's plenty of hot and porny Wincest coming your way in the near future.

 The smell of incense greeted Dean as he strode through the door of he and Sam's apartment, which meant that Sam had either burned something while cooking again or he was trying to set the mood for a little roll in the hay later.

Dean went into the kitchen and saw Sam standing at the counter next to the sink chopping vegetables. Sam had left their book shop an hour early to get started on dinner. Given that there wasn't anything on the stove yet, it was definitely the latter of his assumptions. Dean saw that Sam had his earbuds in, and he was humming along softly with the music playing in them. He came up behind Sam and slowly put his arms around his waist, kissing the back of Sam's neck as he did.

Sam paused, setting down the knife he was holding and turned in Dean's arms. He smiled and kissed Dean tenderly, settling his hands on Dean's waist and pulling him closer. Dean tasted like coffee, and his mouth was still warm from the cup he had drank before he had closed their shop earlier. Dean put his hands on the back of Sam's shoulders, rubbing them gently. They held the kiss for a long time, until Sam had to pull back and gasp for air. He reached up and took his earbuds out, tucking them into his pocket and shutting his iPod off.

Dean smiled at him. “I smell incense. Does that mean....” Dean waggled his eyebrows. Sam smiled at him and gave him another gentle kiss. “Yes. Wanted you so bad today Dean.” Sam kissed him again, this time a little more fervently. He reached up and took Dean's beanie off, running his hand through Dean's short, thick hair. Dean's hands worked at the buttons of Sam's flannel, dipping his head to nip gently on Sam's clavicle, stopping to kiss the tattoo of his initials on the left side of Sam's chest.

It was awhile before they got around to dinner.

. . .

Sam came in through the back door of their shop, a tightly sealed stack of books on the handtruck. Dean was bent over the counter with the cash register, doing a little inventory work and absently tapping along with the music playing over the speakers. Sam could just see a hint of skin and gray boxer briefs where Dean's shirt had ridden up. Sam wanted to go over and set Dean on the counter and kiss him until he couldn't anymore, but he resisted.

He stopped in front of Dean and patted the stack of boxes. “Look what finally came in.” Dean looked up and eyed the writing on the sides of the boxes. They had ordered these books, various new editions of classics, over a month ago, and they had just now gotten in. Dean came from behind the counter and opened the first box, and was greeted with the new and updated critical edition of The Aeneid. “God, they're beautiful. Look at 'em Sam.” Dean held one aloft and Sam took it, running his hands over the embossed lettering of the cover. He opened it, gently turning the pages. The typeface was beautiful, not too big but not too small either. He had read this particular text several times, but now he wanted to read it again.

Dean moved the box from the top of the stack and opened the next one, an set of H.G. Wells on audiotape. Sam took the already open box and began to count how many there were, and afterward put them on the shelf. It took them awhile to get all of the boxes unpacked, with customers coming in and having to do some sorting to fit them on the shelves.

They had opened the shop five years ago, and chosen to simply call it Winchester's. Dean had taken enough business classes on and off since he turned eighteen to get the hang of it, and Sam had gone to school online and gotten his associate's in financing to help with the accounting side of things. Before then they had bounced around from city to city, seeing as much of the country as they could. They had grown up together in foster care after their parents had died when Sam was barely a year old, and Dean was the only family he had. It wasn't a bad life, but as soon as Dean had been able he took Sam with him and they set out on their own. They had both worked odd jobs until they came to where they currently lived, the big city of Greensboro, North Carolina. They lived near the local university, and had built up a reputation as not only a good shop with lots of selection, but for also being a gathering center of debates where various students would come and talk over the finer points of literature and sip coffee from the place next door.

Sam and Dean had also been in love with each other as long as they could remember. No one knew they were brothers, but that didn't bother them in the least. Dean had been Sam's first kiss at sixteen, and his one and only lover since he was eighteen. They had been officially a couple for very nearly a decade now, and Sam wouldn't have it any other way. They were comfortable right where they were, with their shop and apartment right down the street, a city that fit like a glove, and when Sam woke up every morning with Dean next to him, he thought he might just be in heaven.

Dean finished putting the new books on the shelf and came over to where Sam was breaking down the boxes. He picked up one of them, bending the cardboard in his hands. Sam's tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth, right above the small dark blue stud in his bottom lip, his brow furrowed in concentration as he broke the box down.

“You know what's coming up in a couple days, right?”

Sam looked at him and said “What?”

“Ten years.” Sam smiled, and his hands stopped fiddling with the box. “Has it really been that long Dean?”

“Yeah, it has. Feels like yesterday, doesn't it.”

Sam nodded, smoothing his hair back behind his ears and tying it back in a ponytail holder, giving Dean a glimpse of the small black gauges in his ears. “It really does.”

Dean took a hold of Sam's hands, running his thumbs over Sam's kunckles. “Wanna do something special for it baby boy. You name it, and we will.” Sam closed the distance between them and kissed Dean gently on the lips, Dean's tongue piercing a metallic taste in Sam's mouth. He broke the kiss after a few moments, and stood back. “I trust you to come up with something wonderful Dean. You always do.” Sam smiled at him, and rubbed the side of Dean's face.

Their moment was broken when they heard the shop door open, and Sam turned around. “Afternoon sir, how can I help you?” Sam released Dean and made his way over to their latest customer.

Dean began to form a plan, because he was going to make their anniversary perfect.

. . .

The next week seemed to drag by. It was that period between the end of the semester and the start of summer school, so business at the shop had slowed down considerably. It was a Thursday, and Dean was propped on a stool behind the counter, his nose buried in a biography of Theodore Roosevelt. Sam had gone out to get lunch for them from the little Greek restaurant down the road. He found that he had liked reading about presidents, because more often than not their lives were almost if not more exciting than that of some adventure novels, which were his favorite.

The smell of lamb and souvlaki accompanied the sound of the bell above the door, and Dean took off his reading glasses and looked up at Sam. “Even got baklava. Made it fresh too.” Sam offered Dean a Styrofoam tray full of food, and Dean eagerly took it. Sam noticed the book he was reading and said “Good, isn't it?” Sam came around to the back of the counter and sat down in the chair back there, opening his own container of food.

“Yeah, it is. When did you read it?” Dean took a bite of his lamn hiro and made a face of contentment, convinced that he had just tasted the best thing in the world.

“About a year ago, right around the time we cleared out the upstairs area.” Their shop had originally been one floor, the second floor being inaccessible due to a rickety staircase. They had called a contractor and he had fixed it up, giving them room to expand to a second story. Upstairs was where they also kept a good collection of erotica of all kinds as well, and Sam and Dean had stayed behind one night after closing to keep christen it properly, reading smut out loud to each other and then fucking each other dry on the floor afterward.

“Remember how we broke it in?” Dean put down his plastic fork and rubbed Sam's thigh.

“I think there are still come stains on the carpet. God I had rugburn from that for a week.”

Dean smiled and said “Worth it.” Sam smiled at him and pulled Dean over to him for a kiss. “It's slow right now if you want to head up and add some more to it....” Sam licked his lips, his eyes hooding with lust.

Dean was about to agree when a group of four girls came in, all talking and chatting and not really looking like they had any sort of idea what they wanted.

Dean rose from his stool, wiping his hands on his napkin and putting on his best smile. “Can I help you ladies?” Seeing two very cute guys with lip piercings and skinny jeans made the four of them blush and giggle, and Sam couldn't help himself as he stood and put his arm tight around Dean's waist.

The four of them, upon seeing the unabashed affection between them, all made an awww noise, and Dean had gone upstairs with them after they had looked around downstairs. Sam just shook his head and finished his souvlaki, savoring the taste of it in his mouth.

The four of them came back down ten minutes later, Dean behind them. They all avoided Sam's eyes as he rang them up. Dean had managed to sell each of them two thick volumes of erotica, and Sam couldn't help but smile as they all did their best to make the bags cover what they had bought.

“How'd you manage that?” Sam got out a bottle of cleaner and wiped down the counter where the grease from their lunch had soaked through.

“Knew that they were looking for it when they came in. It was one of them's bachelorette party or something. Speaking of which... what do you say tomorrow me and you take the day off. I don't think the world will end if Winchester's is closed for just one day.”

Sam looked at him and nodded his head. “Sure.”

Dean came over behind the counter, the place empty save for them. “Tomorrow's it, you know. Ten years Sammy. Ten of the best years of my life.” He gave Sam the smile he only reserved for after they'd had sex, the smile that he gave him when he saw Sam against the sunset, the smile that he gave him if Sam'd had to go somewhere else for the day and come back late in the day, and Dean had waited up for him.

Sam blushed and said “I haven't even gotten you anything yet.”

Dean put his hand under Sam's chin and tilted his head up. “Don't have to baby boy. I've got you. All I really need.”

They kissed until the door opened again.

. . .

Dean woke Sam up early the next morning by kissing down his neck, his lips soft against his skin. Sam rolled over slowly, a smile already parting his lips. Dean had held him all night, his arms wrapped tight around Sam's chest.

Sam looked up at Dean and kissed him on the lips, his other hand trailing down Dean's front to cup him, but Dean stopped him “Later baby boy, promise.” Sam sighed and settled for just kissing Dean until he had to breathe. “I can't help you're hot in the mornings Dean. Actually, screw that. Hot all the time.” Sam let his eyes wonder down Dean's body. He and Dean only had one tattoo a piece, their initials inked into the skin above the other's hearts. They'd gotten them done on Sam's twenty first birthday, because Sam had wanted Dean on his skin forever. Dean didn't even rib him for being sappy or girly when he'd asked, because he loved Sam so fucking much, and when Sam had showed him the design he had chosen for the letters he had nearly cried because Sam had written them in calligraphy, smoothly flowing lines and curves.

“Speak for yourself Sammy.” Dean looked Sam up and down, all long lines and hard muscle in the bed next to him. Dean wanted to kiss every inch of his skin, but he knew there would be time later. “Come on – I made breakfast.” Sam got up and pulled on a pair of gym shorts, following Dean to the kitchen. Dean had made blueberry pancakes, which were Sam's favorite, and even made freshly squeezed orange juice. Sam couldn't believe the spread in front of him.

“Dean... when did you do all this?” Dean pulled out his chair for him and he sat down, Dean sitting more or less right next to him.

“When you were still counting sheep Sammy.” Dean smiled at him and piled his plate with pancakes and bacon.

“Did you cook in your underwear?” The thought of Dean running around the kitchen in just his underwear made a warm feeling form in the pit of his stomach, and he felt his cock thicken.

“I put on an apron so the bacon grease didn't spatter me anyway. But aside from that, yeah.” Dean winked at him and began chowing down.

“Fucking hot Dean. Definitely gonna think about that later.”

“Later as in after I make you come so hard you won't be able to stand up for a week?” Dean's tone was so casual that Sam nearly spit out his orange juice.

“Yeah, definitely after that.”

Dean allowed himself a smug smile and didn't take his eyes off of Sam for the rest of breakfast.

. . .

After showering together (which had involved a whole lot more kissing than showering,) Dean drove them across town to the park, and he and Sam held hands as they walked down the shaded sidewalk, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company. They came to a small lake and sat on the edge of the bank with their toes in the water, jeans rolled up to their knees, enjoying the sun and comfortable silence, watching the clouds roll by.

Lunch included a picnic of roast beef sandwiches that Dean had made fresh from their favorite deli along with a brand of beer that neither had had in years but both really liked, an amber ale from Washington State. Sam had asked him how he'd gotten it and Dean had just tapped his nose and smiled. After they'd eaten and laid back in the soft grass to let their lunch digest, Dean had insisted that they throw around a football for awhile. Sam had stripped off his shirt and Converses, the grass soft under his feet as he ran to catch Dean's long pass. They had tossed it back and forth for an hour, until Sam was all sweaty and red, and Dean had promptly tackled him into the grass and kissed him until someone had come walking by.

They staid at the park until the sun started to go down, and Sam had drawn a picture in his sketchbook of Dean's profile, his head bent forward and lips slightly parted. Upon showing the picture to Dean, Dean had proclaimed it perfect and kissed Sam into the grass again.

Dean had made reservations at P.F. Chang's for dinner, and Sam had held his hand under the table the whole time, his thumb rubbing over Dean's knuckles every so often, a subconscious gesture that he had started making a long time ago.

It was still early enough by the time they were finished to head downtown and hear a concert in the park there, a local folk group that Sam and Dean had been listening to since they formed three years ago, and actively promoted at their store, selling their CDs as often as they could. Dean had rested his head on Sam's shoulder as they sat on the picnic blanket, singing along with the band's cover of “First Day of My Life.” Sam swore that this was his the favorite part of the day, no matter what might happen when they got back to their place.

. . .

Dean had made slow, passionate love to Sam that night, and Sam was convinced that he was going to break because Dean had built him up so slowly, making his body cry out for his touch. Same came three times screaming Dean's name, and his body currently felt weightless in Dean's arms, completely and totally at peace. He was tracing lazy circles over Dean's torso when Dean reached over in the nightstand and gave Sam a package.

“What's this Dean?”

Dean kissed him on the side of the head and said “Open it.”

Sam carefully removed the green wrapping paper (which reminded him of Dean's eyes) and he felt his insides go soft when he ran his fingers over the cover of the book. It was Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass,which Sam hadn't read in years. It was the newest, most up to date version available. Sam knew it was expensive, and he read what Dean had written on the inside cover:

“For you Sammy, the greatest part of my life. Ten years doesn't feel like that long at all when I wake up next to you every morning. Here's to sixty or seventy more.

I love you so much,

Dean.”

Sam couldn't help the tear that fell from his eye, and Dean closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “Happy anniversary Sammy.”

Sam just laid his head on Dean's chest and hugged him tight for awhile, murmuring “I love you” over and over again into Dean's skin. After awhile, Sam picked his head up, looking Dean in the eyes. “Could you do one more thing for me Dean?”

“Anything baby boy.”

“Could you read some of _Song of Myself_ to me?”

Dean smiled again and thumbed the book open.

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself

And what I assume, you shall assume

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you...”

 


End file.
